Guiltless
by Rule23
Summary: Eileen is tired of fighting Tobias. She prefers to escape with her son, if only for an evening.


**Disclaimer**_**: **_Anything you recognise belongs to the incomparable J. K. Rowling. No money is being made from this.

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition – Season Seven – Round Six**

**Beater 2 for the Tutshill Tornados**

**Round Six: Much Ado About Shakespeare**

_Now, I'm well aware that Shakespeare isn't everyone's cup of tea. Personally, I hated it until I acted in one and now I love it. But, whatever your stance on Shakespeare, you have to admit that he was good at telling a story. The key to those stories? The classic themes and plot points that crop up in several of his plays._

**BEATER 2**: _Nature. _Write a fic set somewhere surrounded by nature. (eg. The Forbidden Forest, the Forest of Dean, the Mountains where the giants live etc. It doesn't have to be somewhere we see in canon as long as it's set somewhere natural).

**Additional Prompts:**

(song) Guiltless

(word) starlight

(word) monster

**Thanks to the Tutshill Tornados for betaing!**

**Warning: Contains domestic abuse.**

* * *

Guiltless

Words: 1247

* * *

"_Oh, but I'm not bitter, I'm just tired_

_No use getting angry at the way that you're wired" — _"Guiltless" by Dodie

* * *

"I dun't want the 'ole street thinkin' I'm married to sum ungrateful little tart," Tobias thundered, backing her into the brick wall of the house. Her coat snagged on the prickly thorns of a long-dead rose bush.

"I d-didn't do anything," Eileen managed to get out.

"I saw 'im eyein' ye up an' down while ye laffed at 'is pretty jokes."

Eileen backed further into the wall as he spoke, the creeping ivy scratching at the back of her neck. She'd been here before. She knew nothing she had to say would convince him that a conversation with the butcher was just that: a conversation.

"I'm sorry, Toby. I didn't mean anything by it—you've got to believe me."

"I dun't got to anyfin', ye dirty whore."

His black eyes were as hard and sharp as flint, forcing her to look away. There was no future in trying to out-stare a monster. Severus was crouched behind the garden's only tree, a straggling crab-apple, his little fists clenched, tears streaming down his cheeks. He'd been hunting for edible fruit for a crumble when his father came home.

_Run_, she pleaded silently, locking eyes with her son. _Run to the grotto_.

He nodded once and dropped a small, hard apple into the grass as he backed away.

"Nuffin' to say for yesen? No excuses? No empty promises?" He growled as he pushed himself against her, his fetid breath tickling her ear.

She heard barely-there footsteps disappear down the ginnel. Severus was safe.

"No, I have nothing to say to you."

His large, calloused hand was hot against her throat.

"Ye quite sure about that?" He flexed his hand.

Her voice was little more than a gasp. "Yes."

His hand closed vice-like around her neck, crushing force constricting her windpipe. Her lungs burned as they begged for oxygen, hot tears spilled from her eyes, and dark spots danced enticingly across her vision as she fought to remain conscious.

She lost the fight—she always did—and fell limp as the darkness overtook her.

* * *

Tobias was gone when she came to in the dim starlight of the garden. At the pub, she assumed, as the dogs didn't race on Tuesdays. The dull, throbbing ache of her throat was unsettlingly familiar. It used to make her angry.

When they'd first married, she'd fight for all she was worth against the smacks, the punches, and the pushes. She'd made the mistake of pulling her wand on him one day, and he'd snapped it before she could utter a single syllable.

Now, she was too exhausted to fight for herself. She'd only had the energy to fight for Severus.

She pulled herself up from the overlong grass and twisted the brass tap, designed for a garden hose they didn't own, to release its icy water. The liquid quenched the fire that burned her throat, but the relief it provided was only temporary. She pulled her threadbare coat more tightly around herself and left through the broken fence. The ginnel behind their house ran the length of Spinner's End. The little starlight that escaped the clouds was scattered by the broken glass that littered the floor. Old crisp packets rustled in the light breeze, and the acrid stench of piss assaulted her nose and caught in her bruised throat.

How she wished she could escape from this place, wished she could save Severus from its poisonous grasp.

Eventually, the pavement gave way to lush grass. The scent of tree sap and mulch caressed her nose and filled her lungs. Eileen carefully picked her way through the darkness, avoiding tree roots and dog shit. A twig snapped beneath her foot, and she heard a gasp. Severus was perched, bird-like, on a fallen tree, his pale face ethereal in the filtered starlight.

"It's just me, 'Rus."

His shoulders relaxed slightly and he shuffled over, making room for her on the log.

They'd found this place when Severus was barely walking. Tobias had lost his job in the mill and started pissing away their savings on drink and dogs. He'd come home angrier than he ever used to be, smashing plates, slamming walls, and effing and blinding. The sharp edge of a broken plate had caught Severus's cheek, slicing through his pale skin. Eileen would never forget the drip of scarlet as her little boy's lip wobbled and his tears stung his cut. The next day, she'd made sure they were both out of the house when Tobias came home. They'd walked for hours, trying to stay out of sight, until they'd wandered into the woodland and found the little grotto. It was open to the sky and stars but closed off to the rest of the world. A retreat.

"Mam, are you okay?"

She sat down next to her son, wrapping an arm around his thin shoulders.

"I'm fine." Her voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper, the words clawing at her sore throat.

"Why does he 'urt you?" She hated the local accent on Tobias, but couldn't help but find it adorable on Severus—it was softer, less prominent.

She sighed. "Because he's an angry man. His father used to beat his mother, and his grandfather beat his grandmother. He doesn't know any different."

"But you're a witch, right?" He looked at her, unsure. She nodded. "So, can't witches defeat monsters?"

Her reply caught in her throat. Children shouldn't have to think of their fathers as monsters.

"I don't have a wand anymore. Without it, I'm nothing."

"You're not nuffin'," Severus insisted, facing her properly. "You're everyfin' to me."

Tears clouded her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.

"And you are everything to me."

"I know." He snuggled more firmly into her side, wrapping a skinny arm around her waist.

A dark cloud shifted overhead, revealing more of the stars. Severus pointed to the brightest one. The North Star. Polaris.

"We could wish 'im away? Will you say it wiv me?"

She couldn't refuse him anything. They chanted together:

_Starlight, star bright, the first star I see tonight,_

_I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight._

Their voices mingled together as they had a hundred times before, his still high and sweet, hers raw with abuse.

"Do you fink it'll work this time?"

Stormy clouds rolled across the sky, cloaking them in near-darkness once more.

"There's always a chance, 'Rus."

She pulled herself to her feet and held a hand out for him to take. His small hand was cool and fragile in her own.

"Let's go home."

* * *

Eileen woke in the pre-dawn light of the following morning. Tobias's side of the bed was cold, the blankets unwrinkled. Childish hope coiled in her gut.

She padded down the stairs, careful not to wake Severus, and grabbed the empty milk bottle from the kitchen. Opening the front door, she was greeted with the grunting snores of her husband. He was splayed out across the overgrown grass and covered in morning dew. Drool hung in a glistening thread from the corner of his mouth, and his rough hand was clasped loosely around a beer can.

She carefully placed the empty milk bottle on the front step and closed the door, leaving Tobias for the milkman to find.

_Ah, well,_ she thought. _Maybe next time._


End file.
